


Yuri, It's Cold Outside

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A little language, Choosing your own Family, Gen, I promise, Sorry Not Sorry, Vic being a Big Bro/Dad to Yuri, challengesonice, first story of the fandom, i made this a bit sad, is it Viktor, or Victor, someone tell me, teensonicenet, there is a happy ending, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8309719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Hello?” Yuri said. “Viktor?”
  “Yuri Plisetsky!” yelled Viktor. Yuri could imagine his self-proclaimed siblings’ face as they spoke. Viktor rarely got angry, only irritated, but, when he did, however, it was a sight to behold – and cower from, as well. “Do you know how cold it is? What time it is? Have you forgotten that you’re in a foreign country!?”
  No, Yuri thought to himself. I’m not you.
In other words, on a particularly chilly afternoon, Yuri went for a walk, Viktor panicked, and someone is crying.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Yuri!!! On Ice or its’ respective characters/plot. I apologize for any spelling/grammar errors as well as any inaccuracies. I have researched the different cultures provided in this fic, and i am still researching, however I am only human so if I get something wrong please let me know so I can fix it.
> 
> This is for the October Challenge Week that Teens!!! On Ice Network is putting together! It is a network for yoi fans, and even non-network members can participate!
> 
> **prompt(s): sweet / chill**

Dark reds, oranges, and hues of pink painted the sky. Light, almost translucent, snowflakes fluttered down to the earth from the stormy gray clouds. Yuri huffed against the wintry air, puffing out his cheeks, and shoved his glove-covered hands in his pockets. He shuddered against a particularly harsh blast of icy wind but continued to trudge forward.

It was ironic, given that he was a professional ice skater, but if there was anything that Yuri despised more than his mediocrity, it was the cold. Yuri hated the chill that descended and seeped into the white of his bones. He hated the way snow made his clothes damp. He hated how susceptible he was to mere colds, getting defeated by something as simple as a high fever. He hated the festivities, and the winter hype, and the way couples populated the earth during the winter more than the thrice-cursed Valentine’s day.

There was a lot of things that Yuri hated.

He scowled, shaking his head. His thoughts were getting too negative for his liking. Everyone assumed he was a spitfire of burning energy and flaring emotions, given that he was dubbed the “Russian Yankee”, but Yuri thought himself to be quite optimistic in his thoughts. He wasn’t great at socializing, his default being either anger, frustration, or raised voices whenever he interacted with others. People either automatically assumed him to be a belligerent teenager or they saw him as someone unintelligent because of language barriers (read: English) where he only knew the most common of phrases.

People always drifted away, in the end, and never bothered to uncover what he hid underneath his skin.

Yuri sighed, passing by a quaint park. Small children scuttled about with shrieks and laughter, their scarves billowing after them as they were enthralled in their own realities. Yuri felt himself smile. he was a fan of small and adorable things (read: cats). The swing set was abandoned, and seeing that one of the seats bore icicles, Yuri understood why their parents warned them away from it. One out of the four seats were safe enough to sit – at least, Yuri wasn’t threatened by getting his but frozen to metal in a foreign country (which is another story that Yuri will take to his _grave_ ).

He sat, slowly swinging himself. The link chains of the set were freezing to the touch, and Yuri could feel their temperature through his gloves. He hated the cold, but he knew how to survive it. It was ironic, his life. He was a pro figure skater, and he was born and raised in Russia, and yet he despised the cold.

Yuri breathed, and white puffs of his breath curled in the air. His nose itched, and he was probably going to wake up with a small cold the next morning. It would cause the Katsuki’s to fret, no doubt, though Yuri was skeptical that they could out-worry Viktor whenever the male decided to descend into his “Must-Protect-Yuri” mode. The taller male was such a nuisance, even more than their coach with his stern no-nonsense way of life.

Yuri smiled, remembering the day Viktor had looked at him during one of his darker days. Crumbled on the snow-swept sidewalk with a fever and only a few items to call his own, and tears biting his cheeks, Viktor had effortlessly cradled ( _cradled_ ) Yuri in his arms (however, Yuri denies this ever happened), because of course Yuri weighed nothing, and murmured, _“I’m Viktor, your new big brother!”_

Yuri was half lucid from his fever if he remembered correctly, but he knew that he thought Viktor’s proposal to be insane. They were only comrades due to sharing the same coach. Nothing more, nothing less. It didn’t mean they were a family. (Though, if you asked Yuri, he’d tell you that Viktor acted more like a father rather than an older brother).

 _Speak of the devil,_ Yuri thought dryly as his phone buzzed a certain tune. The sky darkened further, and snowflakes grew evident to the human eye as they continued fluttering don from the sky. He could hear mothers and fathers calling for their children, and the park erupted into goodbyes and promises. Yuri’s heart clenched painfully, and pounded against his lungs.

That was another thing Yuri hated.

Promises, that is.

His phone pinged again in the annoying tune reserved for the one who annoyed him the most, and Yuri sighed. He reached into his pocket and gripped the cool metal. Despite being in his insulated, warm pocket, his phone was cold too. Answering, he could hear the regular din of the Katsuki’s in the background. There were cheers, clinking glasses, calls for more sake (whatever that was), and the sounds of someone running a commentary.

“Hello?” Yuri said. “Viktor?”

 _“Yuri Plisetsky!”_ yelled Viktor. Yuri could imagine his self-proclaimed siblings’ face as they spoke. Viktor rarely got angry, only irritated, but, when he _did_ , however, it was a sight to behold – and cower from, as well. “Do you know how cold it is? What time it is? Have you forgotten that _you’re in a foreign country!?”_

 _No,_ Yuri thought to himself. _I’m not_ you.

Huffing, Yuri replied, “I’m fine, Viktor. Just wanted to take a w—,”

“Yuri,” Viktor interrupted. His voice was stern in a way that made Yuri shudder. “Where are you?”

Yuri fell silent for a moment, his eyes catching the characters on the parks’ sign. He tried to decipher it, knowing that he had gone over the proper characters in his language course a few days ago (or was it weeks?), but his eyes strained and his head began to pound. He sighed, “…a park.”

Viktor made a noise that was somewhere between a growl and a moan in the back of his throat. “Describe your surroundings.”

The elder spoke in a tone that demanded submission. Yuri acquiesced, and waited for Viktor to finish rattling off the details to a worried and frazzled Yūri Katsuki. Yuri frowned — he understood why Viktor was concerned, but why was _he_? Yuri had been nothing but rude and vicious to the other in a way that made Viktor scold him whenever he had, unknowingly, gone too far. Even then, Yuri had to wonder why anyone cared about a brat like him.

Yuri didn’t deserve kindness.

“Sit tight,” Viktor said, voice peculiarly warm. “We’re on the way.”

 _We?_ Yuri thought, blinking in befuddlement. Viktor hung up, cancelling their connection, and Yuri was left alone with his dwindling thoughts and a bright moon that slowly rose in the sky, the sun making way for it and the constellations.

Another harsh wind curled around him, and Yuri rubbed his forearms. He really, really hated the cold. Yuri sniffled, cursing his weak immune system, and made a move to wipe his face but a hand cupped his cheek, and a thumb swiped underneath his eyes. The hand was warm and soft, but slightly calloused. Yuri knew that hand. Viktor crouched down in front of him, wearing an expression Yuri had only seen once, during that dark day on the sidewalk with a mix of tears and blood dribbling down his face.

_Why…?_

The other Yūri shuffled into view, cheeks red with the wind, but his normally kind disposition was gone. Instead, frozen onto his face, was a look of concern that made Yuri want to sob. In his hands was a polka-dotted thermos. The air around the was tense and silent. Yuri’s lips were trembling — his fingers were as well. Was this a sign of frostbite? Yuri couldn’t remember.

_Why…?_

Viktor moved first and wrapped Yuri into a tight, comforting hug. The twenty-seven-year-old curled his fingers in Yuri’s hair and made hushing noises as though trying to soothe a child. Well, in multiple ways, Yuri _was_ a child compared to the other two. His shoulders trembled in Viktor’s hold, and soon Yūri was rubbing his back in a circulatory motion. Yuri’s heart drowned in his lungs.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Viktor murmured in his ear. “Shh. It’s alright.

_Why am I crying?_

Yuri hated it when his emotions swelled and leaked out of his death grip, wafting off of his skin in tendrils that reminded Yuri of smoke curling from a chimney. 

Yuri hated a lot of things, but crying in the cold was definitely in the top ten of things he despised to do. He was doing fine earlier, so why the waterworks? His throat was burning, and Viktor’s shirt was getting damp from his tears most likely, but they wouldn’t stop. Sobs spilled out of his mouth and echoed in the air with a haunting rhythm.

His heart ached, and his fingers trembled, and he didn’t know why there were words that spiraled up his throat and made themselves comfortable. Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was the fact that Yuri was thousands of miles away from home, or maybe it was because his mind was tired of his emotions being suppressed. Yuri had once read about that in a blog, the way one can experience different forms of breakdowns due to the suppression of emotions.

After a while, the words eroded away and the sobs slowed to hiccups, and all that was left were sniffles.

“You good?” Yūri murmured as Yuri leaned away from Viktor’s grasp, no matter how comfortable it was. “Here,” he said, placing the thermos in Yuri’s hands. “It’s hot chocolate.”

Viktor’s hand was still in Yuri’s hair, but Yuri was used to that touch so he paid it no mind as he unscrewed the thermos and gratefully took a gulp of the hot liquid. The hot chocolate was soothing as it slid down his throat, and warmth blossomed in the pit of his stomach. The warmth from the beverage seeped onto the thermos, and the heat warmed Yuri’s fingers as he gripped the cup as though it were his current lifeline. His heart swelled at the thought of the Katsuki’s going through so much trouble for one little, foreign brat, and Yuri felt that he might begin crying again.

He took another gulp of the drink instead.

“Come on,” Yūri said, his fingers curling around Viktor’s. Yuri pretended that he didn’t notice — he knew that the new couple weren’t ready to announce themselves yet. Hell, Yuri only knew because he walked in on them — _okay, Plisetsky, time to think of something else that isn’t gross._ “Let’s go back to the onsen.”

Yuri hummed around another mouthful of hot cocoa, and Viktor slung his arm around Yuri’s shoulder once the teen removed himself from the swing (thankfully, there was no butt-sticking incident). Underneath the moonlight, with stars glittering overhead, the trio made their way back to the place Viktor and Yuri temporarily called home. Yuri wouldn’t mind living there, with the Katsuki’s, because they were a lovely bunch (though, Yuri wouldn’t tell that to their faces, of course. He had an image to uphold).

Yuri couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen his own parents. He swallowed another mouthful. Now wasn’t the time to delve into his memories and thoughts. He was exhausted. Why was the act of crying so taxing on one’s body? Yuri was going to research that — well, if Viktor didn’t confiscate his electronics (again) for scaring him into old age. His lips twitched at the thought of Viktor bemoaning the growth of gray hairs, never mind the fact that his hair was _already_ gray.

They rounded a corner, and the onsen came into view. Blinking in surprise, Yuri found the rest on the Katsuki’s, the woman Yūri called “Minako-sensei”, and Viktor’s dog awaiting their arrival. They were already waving with enthusiasm, catching their silhouettes in the distance, and Yuri’s heart swelled again — however, this was different. This sort of swell made Yuri want to smile until his cheeks began to hurt.

“Oi, Yurio,” Katsuki Mari said, lighting a cigarette as they reached the onsen. Yuri tensed at the nickname, lips tipping into a scowl. “You’re in luck — I made you some food.”

Yuri blinked in surprise, but nodded, quietly saying thank you as best as he could. Mari nodded and took a long drag of her cigarette. The thermos was still warm in his hands as Ms. Katsuki ushered them all inside, fretting at the way they shivered as another chilly wind swept over them. There was some sort of game playing on the television, and all the patrons were gathered around to watch it with their mugs of beer.

“Man,” Minako-sensei said as she plopped down on the seat next to Yuri’s. “I can’t wait for skating season to begin again.”

Yuri couldn’t wait either but his mind was focused on gaining warmth in his fingers and toes. “I don’t know what you were thinking, Yuri,” Viktor frowned, unwrapping his scarf before winding it around the teens’ neck for extra warmth. “Going outside with only a winter coat and gloves. You’re going to get sick!”

“I’m not that fragile, Viktor,” Yuri groaned, though they both knew that he was. Damn his health.

Yūri chuckled and said, “Viktor, let Yuri eat first.”

Viktor grumbled but acquiesced to Yūri’s demand.

Yuri’s lips twitched in amusement, and the patrons cheered as the winning team got another goal — or point, whatever. The only sport Yuri was interested in was figure skating. Nothing else held his interest or passion as long as his chosen career has.

“Go on,” Mari said as she passed them by. “Eat. Before it gets cold, Yurio.”

Yuri scowled, but obeyed. His stomach was warm from the hot chocolate, but he hadn’t eaten any dinner. Actually, how long had he been out on his walk? He lost track of time easily, and slipped in and out of the crowds, lost in thought. The patrons and Minako-sensei burst into cheers as another goal was obtained, some of them jumping and dancing, and some demanding for more celebratory alcohol. Viktor clapped, though he looked as if he hadn’t a clue of what was going on, and Yūri looked neutral but fond at the chaos.

Yuri smiled.

The noodles tasted sweet, dancing on his tongue.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can shriek with me about Yuri Plisetsky @ my tumblr: drxmingstxrs


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